


I Feels Bad (And I’m Looking for a Kiss)

by shrink



Category: The Smiths
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 03:13:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrink/pseuds/shrink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy unwillingly helps Linder and Morrissey settle a bet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Feels Bad (And I’m Looking for a Kiss)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the [New York Dolls song.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xGxIxLWn3AM)

 “I can’t help but think that if he—I don’t know—grabbed me at the gallery tomorrow—and kissed me softly and deeply—that my first thought would be ‘ _has my lipstick smudged?_ ’”

“I feel the same way,” Morrissey said from the floor.

A pillow was tossed from the bed, missing his temple but sending his wine glass toppling backwards. “I’m serious,” Linder sighed. “This is serious.”

“Thank god you only choose cheap blushing zinfandels,” he said, pouring himself another glass and frowning speculatively at the spilled wine clinging to the brown hotel carpet. He knew he’d be bothered by the spot in the morning, even if it was undetectable as he suspected it would be.

“That wasn’t cheap,” Linder said, sitting up. “You’re just a snob.” She’d gotten the wine as a gift for her latest gallery opening. Luckily Morrissey was touring in the same area, so she’d stopped by after the concert hours ago. They’d finished the entirety of the hotel stocked vodka before Morrissey had allowed the opening of the pink wine bottle.

“Do I look like a snob,” Morrissey asked, turning his nose up. “I’ve always hoped to.”

“These might help,” Linder said, scooting across the floor so they were face to face. She took off the elaborate layers of pearls she hoped looked elegant and artistic at the same time, and carefully twisted them around Morrissey’s neck.

“Any part of your wardrobe would,” he said, striking a pose with the pearls.

She rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. “Ha. Aren’t you a sassy bitch.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” He asked, pulling a strand of the pearls through his fingers before letting it drop against his chest.

“What?” Linder said slowly, distracting by the thudding of the necklace against Morrissey’s pale chest. He was still wearing the loose blouse from the concert, and it was drooping off his shoulder. “ _Oh_ him. There isn’t much to do, I’m afraid. He’ll either kiss me or he won’t. If he does, I’ll end up worrying about menial things like my lipstick.”

“You should stop wearing lipstick in case.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it?” he said, swiping back the hair that kept toppling into his eyes every time he took a drink.

“You know what I mean. _You_ couldn’t possibly kiss anyone without wondering about something menial,” she said, tugging his shirt lower.

“I disagree.”

“You think you can kiss someone and live in the moment? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Absolutely I could,” Morrissey said proudly, folding an arm under his head before lying back on the floor.

“Kiss me and tell me the first thing that comes into your head,” she said, her eyes challenging through their heavy eyeliner border. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s an experiment.”

“Call off your transparent attempts to entice me into your web of seduction,” Morrissey said, waving a dismissive hand in her general direction.

“Oh really,” Linder said, “you think you can blatantly lie to anyone and be believed because you sound so certain. But we both know you couldn’t enjoy it for what it was if anyone kissed you.”

“Well, I can’t kiss _you_. I’ll be worrying if your lipstick is smudging. It’s not objective.”

Linder bit the insides of her cheeks and looked hopefully around the room like some other willing participant might appear.

“I’ll find someone else if you’re willing to be truthful about what you’re thinking.”

“Do as you will,” Morrissey said, finishing the rest of his wine before shutting his eyes.

When he lifted his head again a pair of boots walked carefully around his prone form, which Linder’s bare feet led and coaxed into a sitting position.

“Andy,” Morrissey said, propping himself on his elbows as he focused at the blonde’s weary face. “ _No_.”

“See I told you,” Andy said quickly to Linder, already trying to stand.

Her well-manicured hand darted out to grab him, “No it’s _fine_ ,” she said firmly. “Come on, I told him that it’s for a good cause.”

“What’s that exactly?” Morrissey said through a yawn.

“Your education.”

“Look, I didn’t realize how drunk you both were,” Andy said, trying to stand, but was forced down again by Linder.

“You can leave when you’ve kissed,” Linder said, sitting between them like some sort of referee.

“Fine,” Morrissey said nonchalantly, half pleased at the way Andy was staring at the pearls draped around his neck.

“Fine?” Andy said, looking up.

“But I’m warning you that I taste like cheap wine,” Morrissey said, looking pointedly at Linder. She rolled her eyes and finished off the bottle herself.

Andy stared at Morrissey’s lips, like he’d just been handed the gun in Russian Rolette. “Moz, I don’t understand,” Andy began. But Morrissey had already closed his eyes, still managing to look haughty with puckered lips.

“You have to kiss him too!” Linder whispered harshly, pushing the back of Andy’s head forward.

Before anyone could make another move, they had closed the gap between them, their mouths closed but lips pressed dryly together. Andy gasped and pulled back just enough that they were apart, and Morrissey’s eyes opened, staring a shocking blue accusation at him. “I can’t,” Andy said to Linder shoving out of her grasp and standing. They both turned to watch him step over the empty glasses that created a minefield between them and the door.

“Okay,” Linder said with annoyance, twisting some hair behind her ear.  “Were you in the moment?”

“Um,” Morrissey licked his own lip thoughtfully, staring at the way the hotel door hadn’t closed entirely behind Andy. “I didn’t know you were going to get Andy.”

“Sorry, everyone good was still out or asleep,” Linder said, standing to shut the door all the way. “I thought you could make an exception for animal testing just this once.”

Morrissey frowned. “We are drunk,” he said, pushing to his feet unsteadily.

“Where are you going?” Linder called. “You have to answer the question.”

He waved her off, and focused on moving his feet in a straight line through the hallway. The carpet design which had looked ugly when they’d checked in now seemed to be swimming in pools of geometric shapes under his feet. He knocked lightly at the door he was half sure was the one Johnny had designated for Andy.

A blonde head stuck out. “Look---” he began, frowning at the unbalanced way Morrissey was gripping the doorframe. “Are you okay?” Andy said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him inside of the room.  

“Yeah,” Morrissey said, allowing Andy to help him over the bed, which was considerably smaller than the one in his own hotel room. Andy had taken off his jean jacket, and his arms looked pale even next to the bright white of his t-shirt. Morrissey noticed the cigarette freshly stubbed out in the ashtray by the bed. He thought it probably meant something, or would have if this was a play and not real life. “I wanted to tell you that I don’t usually wear such garish jewelry,” Morrissey said slowly, scrunching his face in concentration. He didn’t mean to say that, but he hadn’t come up with anything else to say between his room and Andy’s, and that seemed like a legitimate reason to his intoxicated brain.

“I know,” Andy said, handing him a glass of tap water which Morrissey took but held in his hand without taking a sip.

“I feels bad.” Morrissey leaned toward the bassist, watching Andy’s expression, as if it could be deciphered if he could just get a little closer. Of course Andy knew the New York Dolls lyrics that followed, from repeated forced listened in the tour van in the earlier days of the band. Andy took the untouched water from the singer’s hand and sat it on the end table by the bed.

“I’m going to help you back to your room,” Andy said, grabbing Morrissey around the waist and hoisting him off the bed. Morrissey clutched Andy’s t-shirt tightly in his hands. They took a step towards the door when Morrissey leaned over to kiss Andy’s cheek. In the movement, Andy’s stubble brushed harshly against Morrissey’s lips.

“Moz, stop,” Andy said softly, still trying to pull him towards the door. But Morrissey was unrelenting as he clumsily trailed kisses, on Andy’s jaw, and the blonde had to hold him closer to keep the thinner man from falling over altogether.

“Please,” Morrissey whispered, kissing Andy’s neck sloppily as Andy came to a stop in the middle of the room. Andy turned to Morrissey, pushing him back in what Morrissey thought was disgust, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. His back flopped onto the flowery comforter as Andy leaned over top of him, his elbows next to Morrissey’s ears, his forehead pressed lightly against Morrissey’s. Morrissey made a small “uummff” sound when Andy finally kissed him, opening his mouth for Andy’s prying tongue. Morrissey reached up, trying to bring Andy’s body against his own, but Andy pinned Morrissey’s hands above his head with one hand, only giving Morrissey exactly as much as he wanted to. He finally pulled back from the kiss, looking at Morrissey’s eyes still closed, his lips bruised and wet, and kissed him once more---firmly on the forehead.

Morrissey opened his eyes in confusion. “You’re drunk,” Andy said. “You should sleep this off.”

Morrissey nodded, and allowed Andy to half carry him back to his room. On his bed Linder was spooning the empty wine bottle, her feet dangling limply over the edge.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Morrissey slurred. “It’s fine.”

Andy dropped him carefully on the sofa before grabbing an extra blanket from the closet, turning off the lights on his way back.

“Stay,” Morrissey said grabbing Andy’s hand. Andy sat on the floor by the sofa.

“Ok,” Andy said, leaning his head against the Morrissey’s arm.

He closed his eyes as Morrissey ran his blonde hair through his fingers.

“What was the bet you were trying to settle with Linder anyway—she didn’t tell me everything.”

Morrissey was quiet for a minute and Andy thought he’d fallen asleep.

“It was whether or not I’m in love with you,” Morrissey said into the dark.

Andy laughed dryly, hearing the lie through the alcohol. “Okay,” he said, wondering what it would feel like if he believed that. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story please consider [buying me more caffeine for my bloodstream.](https://ko-fi.com/A402111U)


End file.
